One More Night
by BrazenMonkey
Summary: What is enough? When is it time to draw a line? Darcy tries to end a relationship that leaves her with more pain than comfort. But is it that easy? - Songfic to Maroon 5's 'One More Night'


**A/N: Hello there! It has been a little while since my last post and this is something I had planned and been working on for ages and today, I finally managed to complete this piece - a songfic to Maroon 5's 'One More Night'. Ever since I heard the song, I wanted to write a companion piece - and this is it.**

**Do yourself the favour and listen to a - in my humble opinion - far better version. Go and check Alex Goot's channel on youtube and look for his collaboration on this song - seriously, amazing! And this is the version that inspired this piece. ( It is called: '"One More Night" - Maroon 5 - Alex Goot & Friends (7 Youtuber Collab!)')  
**

**As per usual, I would love to read your honest opinion, I really hope you will enjoy this, I certainly enjoyed writing it!**

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First her shoulder blades hit the wall, then her head. His violence makes ink black spots cover her sight and the flash of pain leaves her senseless for a second. Then, a hand scoops up her night gown and long, skinny fingers squeeze her backside while lifting her up.

The growl that fills her head is as intoxicating as the lips that scan the skin of her neck or the teeth that nip her sensitive spots over and over again. Deft fingers slid under the straps of her dress and roughly pull it apart, exposing the creamy curves of her cleavage. He may be thorough but not gentle at all, the way his fingers bruise her skin, his teeth rip at her collarbone and his hips crush against hers.

Like the prince he is born to be, he needs to be the one in control. Darcy is dropped onto her bed and again the impact makes her gasp. Quickly, Loki covers her body with his and with a rough movement of his knee, he spreads her legs. The remains of her ripped gown are pulled away and carelessly discarded onto the floor.

There she lies, in the dark, her pale skin radiating through the shadows, stretched out for him, ready for him. She knows this is what he wants. Her at his mercy. Some things never change.

He gets rid of his clothes and grabs her wrists with unhidden ferocity, his nails digging into her thrumming pulse. One swift movement and Darcy needs to lift her back and pants for air. And again, and again, and again, a steady rhythm that is unrelenting, impatient and untamed. His lips tend to her neck and earlobe and the swirls of his lips combined with the nicks of his teeth send shocks through her body as her muscles squeeze tightly around what he is giving her over and over again.

One rough pull and her scoops her up, her trembling thighs finding rest on his while he crushes her by her back into his arms, his lips still occupied while his hands steady her shaking body. Darcy's neck goes slack and the ends of her long tresses touch his strong hands as her lips let one moan after another escapes her sore throat. Her fingers walk a shaky trail from his sculptured chest to his hot neck and find rest at the roots of his raven hair where she presses her nails into his scalp.

Again Loki changes their position and pulls her down with him, her breast pressed into his chest, his hands around her rear, her hands still in his hair, his lips at her temple. Gushes of air invade her ear, mingled with the low growls he produces. He pushes her right into that sweet abyss of oblivion, colours dancing in front of her eyes and her insides writhe with pleasure. He soon follows, one last thrust, one last squeeze, the choke of his breath and then silence covers the two lovers, the only thing heard is their deep sighs of contention.

Soft fingers move her down from his heaving chest into his arms, her head finding rest on his shoulder, his strong arm wrapped around her waist. A pair of chapped lips presses against her forehead and Darcy responds with a tender hum. No matter how often she sleeps with him, this is what gives her true satisfaction, his rare but reoccurring gestures of affection. Her lips caress the skin of his chest and she can still taste the passion on him. Slumber pulls her in while she relaxes to the steady drum of his heart.

In the morning, she wakes up still nestled safely in his arms. To her, this is the place where she wants to belong.

_You and I go on at each other like we're going to war  
You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door  
You and I get so damn dysfunctional we start keeping score  
You and I get sick, yeah I know that we can't do this no more _

_But baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you  
And I stop using my head, using my head, let it all go  
Now you're stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo  
And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, coming back to you _

"Loki!"

He rushes to the door – _why, _she muses, _he just zaps out anyway. _But, to her great surprise, he stops and turns around. And his look makes her freeze mid-step.

She stares into his eyes, blue that blends into green, both cool colours that add an extra hue of distance to his features. Now, his brows are angrily furrowed, his lips pressed together and his temples twitching. He does not deign to answer, merely stares at her apparently with all the indignation he could manage to put into his glare.

"I beg you...", Darcy starts but a snap of his head makes her stop.

"Who are you to beg anything?", he hisses and straightens his shoulders.

Her teeth grind on each other and she swallows the angry retort that dances on her tongue. There is no use in arguing. And she is fed up with it.

"Don't", she simply says, tired and exhausted.

Loki grins, not a funny grin but an evil grin, full of disdain. "And why, pray, silly thing, should I alter my plans?"

Her hand scoots up to her neck and she can feel the heat beneath her masses of hair. "You are going to get yourself killed.", she whispers.

Loki stretches his proud chin and a slight wrinkle covers his nose. "Why do you care?"

Anger starts to gnaw at her insides and frustration floods her head. He knows exactly why. And he knows she is afraid to say it out loud. As if she had to. As if he hadn't figured it out by now.

Instead, Darcy wills her voice to be steady and calm. "You do not need to do this."

His laugh is maleficent, disdainful. "I need not? Why, thank you, had I but known!"

It hurts and she knows he aims his words to cut into her already shabby self-esteem. What he lacks in sensitivity, he makes up with a talent for cruelty.

He continues to stare and takes deliberate strides towards her. "Nobody forces me to do anything. Nor do I need to do anything. And I do not need _your_ permission. And I do not care about your opinion."

Her lips tremble as she heftily replies. "I know. You made that from the very beginning!" Her anger takes over and her tongue feels like a loaded gun, her words a trigger ready to be pulled.

Loki's lips purse in and angry motion. "Then what do you expect me to do? To forget about those who wronged me?"

"No, I...", she starts but he interrupts.

"To forgive?", he snarls.

"I never said you should...", she tries again but Loki cuts her off with another gesture of his hand.

"Then what should I do?", he shouts at her.

"Choose me!", she screams back at him with all the force her heart has to give. For a second, neither of them says a word. The silence is deafening, almost suffocating.

"Choose me", she pleas, her voice throaty. "I beg you, don't go. Stay, stay here with me, let me help you." The tears she had felt burning in her throat and eyes fight the way through the brim of her lashes and drip down her cheeks. She doesn't want him to go, nor does she want him to die. She needs him, even if he doesn't want to be needed.

"All you want is to belong somewhere, to be accepted. You know I do, I always have. And whenever I try to get close to you, you push me away. Why won't you let me love you?"

His lips are parted, a ragged breath escaping his mouth while his eyes are pulled into slits. His silence is much more frightening than his anger. Anger is emotion, passion maybe and that is close to affection. Silence is controlled, deliberate. Silence means detachment.

"Love me? What did you expect this was?", he hisses through his teeth. "What did you think I would give you?" His voice trembles with the force he lays on his words. "Who do you think I am? Who do you think _you_ are?"

Darcy shrinks back from his words and each syllable feels like a stab with a dagger. A sob strangles her throat but she keeps it safely locked for her dignity's sake.

He steps closer to her, his face a mask of disbelief. "Do you think your wishes matter to me? You are nothing to me, insignificant!" His hands sways through the air as if he tries to wipe away all her hopes and expectations. He succeeds.

"All you can hope to be is a pleasant company – and that is all. Do not make the mistake to think you are of any importance to me." Arrogance distorts his features. "Had I known that you were foolish enough to indulge in such silly fantasies, I would have never gotten involved with you." His voice is like ice, true to his parentage.

An sudden clarity hits her like a smack across her cheek. The sparkly bubble of dreams bursts, pricked by the sharp pins of his words. Somehow, all the little signs she had read into his behaviour were nothing but mirages, imagined, castles in the air. He is right. It was foolish to believe, to hope, to love. Her hands crammed into fists, the sob fights its way through the barrier of her lips and accompanies the tears that stream down her face.

"Go", she manages to whisper, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She can not look at him. "And never come back."

Her despair seems to leave him unaffected. He watches her for a second, then turns and within a second, he has vanished. And all that remains is a terrible mess.

_So I cross my heart and I hope to die  
That I'll only stay with you one more night  
And I know I said it a million times  
But I'll only stay with you one more night_

_Try to tell you no, but my body keeps on telling you yes_  
_Try to tell you stop, but your lipstick's got me so out of breath_  
_I'll be waking up in the morning, probably hating myself_  
_I'll be waking up inner satisfied, guilty as hell_  
_But baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you_  
_And I stop using my head, using my head, let it all go_  
_Now you're stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo_  
_And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, coming back to you_

The familiar rumble of her key chain inside her bag relaxes Darcy's tense neck and helps her to cast aside the remaining thoughts that belong to work. She leaves them at the front door like the dirt beneath her shoes and somehow, they feel much alike. If only she could do the same with those gloomy thoughts that cloud her mind.

Darkness greets her and the familiar scent of her own things, the remaining smell of her perfume, coffee and warm sheets envelops her in a tight embrace and eases off the last bits of stress. Her hand hits the switch next to her door – and then she freezes.

She is not alone. The light blinds her vision at first but then, it is something else that fills her eyes. Red, like poppies, like crimson, like scarlet silk. Her nose suddenly senses the hints of salt, rust and metal. Blood, everywhere, on the floor, on her little night stand, a trail that leads from her window that hangs miserably in its angle, the remaining token of a forced entry. It leads towards the middle of the room and covers the motionless body.

Her legs tumble without her permission and within seconds, she clutches the heavy pieces of leather of the Asgardian armour as she falls to her knees next to him. Loki is as pale as snow, his eyes sunken deeply into their sockets, closed, his mouth slightly parted, his whole face covered in a slight sheen of sweat. He does not move, his hands are pulled into loose fists, his elbows slightly bent and for one agonizing second, Darcy can't breathe out of sheer angst. Her eyes dart down his body, the rivulets of blood that leek from his ribcage, safely hidden beneath his chest plate, create a little pond of ruby around his stilled body.

And then, his eyelids twitch, only ever so faintly but it is enough to wake her muscles out of their shock.

"Loki...", she half cries, half hushes, her hands cupping his ice-cold cheeks. Blueish green eyes snap open and finally, she can feel his exhausted breath caressing her skin. Before she can say anything, his eyes search hers and one of his hands wraps around her wrist so heavily it will leave a mark.

"Loki... oh god..." Senseless words fall from her lips and all she can do is watch his chest rise and sink, whether it is because of his lungs pumping air or his body contracting with pain – right now all she can think about is the sickeningly sweet relief that floods her. Her mind refuses to process for a horrible moment but the grip around her wrist pulls her back into here and now. He needs help.

"Loki, listen to me, please, I need to move you", she almost begs, as if asking his permission. "I need to take you to the bed." His eyes scan her face for a second, then he nods.

She gets on her feet, ignoring her wobbly knees and her hands latch onto the pads on his shoulder. Timidly, she leans back to pull him and a muffled cry of pain escapes his thin lips.

Water springs from her eyes and now she can't fight back a sob. "I am sorry, just a little more...", she whimpers and continues to drag him. Every single sound he makes, even though he tries in vain to conceal them, cuts through her heart. Apologies tumble from her lips and finally, she reaches her bed and drops him as softly as possible onto the mattress. His teeth grind on each other but he remains silent.

Removing his armour carefully proves to be nearly impossible but soon his lean chest is bare. Hot water and cloth help her to clean his wound, and with every single stroke of her hands, he relaxes. His pain-distorted features turn into his usual, sharp traits while his breath changes into an even pattern. He keeps his eyes closed throughout her whole treatment and neither of them utters a single word.

Whether it takes hours or only minutes, she doesn't know but in the end, she manages to patch him up more or less. Her heart calms with her thorough handiwork and so does he. His eyes open and he stares at her when she starts to clean up. He looks awful, tired, miserable and horribly sick.

He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off with a shake of her head. "You need to sleep", she whispers and unconsciously, her hand caresses his forehead and slicks back his hair. She moves to rise but again, his hand clutches hers. This time, it is not forcefully but a gently, tender squeeze.

She swallows whatever she had planned to tell him when she would see him again, swallows all the anger and fury of the past few days since their fight. Because the look he gives her melts her heart and leaves her head swimming with affection.

A sudden fatigue takes hold of her and she crawls into bed next to him. His eyes follow her and as soon as she lays down, his arms circles her shoulders and he presses her to his intact side. Her head nestles into the soft joint of his shoulder and she feels his lips place a kiss onto her forehead.

She falls asleep again to the steady drum of his heart.

Tonight, this is alright. Tonight he may stay. Just one more night.

_So I cross my heart and I hope to die_  
_That I'll only stay with you one more night_  
_And I know I said it a million times_  
_But I'll only stay with you one more night_  
_Yeah baby give me one more night_

_Baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you_  
_And I stop using my head, using my head, let it all go_  
_My truth stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo_  
_So I cross my heart and I hope to die_  
_That I'll only stay with you one more night_  
_And I know I said it a million times_  
_But I'll only stay with you one more night  
Now baby give me one more night _


End file.
